Lizzie
Phin showed me the letter after I got home from work. After I read the letter, we'd discussed and argued endlessly about him visiting his father and having the bone marrow procedure.
In the end, Phin agreed to do it because it was the right thing to do. That evening I arranged with his mother to visit his father the next day, and later in bed we started sorting through everything Phin wanted to ask his parents.
Saturday morning, the quiet drive down to the peninsula to his childhood mansion felt exceptionally long. We arrived at the affluent neighborhood that Phin grew up in, which was a field of mansions for as far as the eye could see. I took my hand off the gearshift and put it on his thigh to calm his nervous leg. He didn't say much other than to give me directions. I noticed him gazing out the window, his eyebrows furrowed, looking dark and concerned as we drove through the neighborhood. Feeling like I needed to break the silence, I asked, "Does it look different?"
He sighed. "Yeah, some new restaurants and stores. But the big houses are the same. Nothing ever changes here. Everything looks perfect on the outside, but no one knows what happens on the inside. All the houses seemed so soulless." His voice sounded haunted, which spiked my anxiety.
We pulled up to the security gate, and I nervously gave the guard my name, and he looked at his list of acceptable guests. After seeing our names on the list, he hit the gate and let us in. Smirking at Phin, I said, "I was a little worried we weren't on the list."
He gave me a weak smile. "No, my mother wouldn't have done that; she's probably called that guy twenty times this morning."
I pulled up around the corner and saw three identical mansions. Phin pointed to a large colonial-style mansion at the end of the block. It's the biggest and most expensive house I've ever seen in my life. We pulled into the circular drive, and I was relieved thinking it would make for an easy escape if we needed it. I let him sit for a second to collect his thoughts. I leaned over the console and turned his face toward mine and gave him a reassuring kiss. "Love you."
He gave me a brief smile that wasn't convincing. "Love you too."
"Come on; let's do this so we can go." I wanted to say something funny to cut the tension, but I came up short. We stood in front of the ridiculously large house holding hands, trying to anchor each other. "Phin, this place is just memories, nothing or no one here will hurt you. I promise you that our home will always be your safe haven."
"Thank you, Lizzie," Phin whispered in my ear.
I wished, at that moment, we could get back in that car, go home and make love the rest of the day.
"You ready?" He didn't answer but gave me a faint smile. We stood in front of the grand door, neither of us moving to ring the bell. The tension was beaming off his body, so I did what had to be done: I rang the bell. Phin flinched at the ominous sound of the chime. He stood taller trying to brace himself for the onslaught that was about to hit him. I held his hand harder to help me brace for the impact of the storm about to crash land.